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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998139">i hate everything about you (why do i love you?)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime/pseuds/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime'>TooManyGaysTooLittleTime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hate Sex, Issues with a capital I, Minor Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, On Hiatus, To Be Edited, Twitter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:14:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime/pseuds/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>To the outside world, Calanthe, head of Cintra Corp., has it all: wealth, fame, a beautiful daughter. But the truth of her life is fraught. She is watching her world fall apart in front of her.</p><p>Tissaia de Vries, headmistress of Aretuza Academy, has been an outspoken critic of Calanthe’s policies for years. Yet when she encounters her unexpectedly, Tissaia is forced to redefine her mindset.</p><p>To all the world, they are enemies. What sparks between them, however, is something different entirely.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Tissaia de Vries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i hate everything about you (why do i love you?)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>CHOO CHOO WELCOME ABOARD THE CALANTHE/TISSAIA TRAIN!! COME SUFFER WITH ME</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p></p><blockquote>
  <p> This is not who Calanthe is, she knows: it’s who Tissaia wants her to be. </p>
  <p>But when Tissaia’s eyes shutter closed and she seals her lips over Calanthe’s, she finds that she doesn’t mind being who Tissaia wants her to be. At least for tonight.</p>
</blockquote>Calanthe hates Tissaia. Tissaia detests Calanthe.<p>The strange attraction they feel to one another? That was not part of the plan.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>FAIR WARNING calanthe is not particularly good or nice at the start of this, and this is not exactly a calanthe-positive fic, but i promise no character bashing will occur. (except maybe to the men *shrugs*)</p><p>this first chapter is probably not one if you’re a diehard calanthe stan. sorry lmao but she will get a redemption arc</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Pavetta Riannon on her mother, great expectations, and Cintra Corp.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I guess I still don’t consider myself famous by any means,” Pavetta’s cheeks pink as she speaks. “Mom kept me very sheltered, so the fact of my celebrity status never really sunk in.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Although she may be less conscious of this fact, Pavetta Riannon’s star status is well-known across the Continent. Her style is a frequent feature of fashion magazines and gossip about her love life—the 21-year-old has not spoken about dating anyone as yet—abounds. The sight of her distinctive platinum blonde hair and green eyes would cause anyone to look twice at her when passing on the street. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>In person, she’s shorter than expected, her favoured kitten heels doing little for her height. Her beauty, however, remains consistent from the glossy magazine pages to right in front of me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I just find it strange, really,” she continues, “this whole fame thing. The fact that my love life is a topic of conversation for people who I’ve never met and likely never will—it’s sometimes all a bit much to take in.” She laughs to defuse the tension. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Anyways, I’m very grateful to her [Calanthe] for all that she’s done for me. Usually celebrity parents end up ditching their kids, or giving up on them. Mom has done none of that. She’s always been there to care for me, and her dedication and love have stuck with me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The warm praise that Pavetta expresses for her mother, Calanthe Fiona Riannon (famed head of Cintra Corp.) is at odds with several media representations of her character. Calanthe has been labelled a bitch, a power-hungry maniac and an egoist, among others, by the press. Pavetta visibly recoils at this notion.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’ve never known Mom to be anything like that,” she says. “Certainly, she wants the most from life, but I have always considered her to be someone to be held in the highest regard for striving for that and achieving it. It seems wrong that she should be called those horrible names for that.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What does Pavetta think of her own position, as Cintra Corp.’s heir? She stands to inherit at least two million złoty after Calanthe’s death, as well as take over the position of CEO. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“She has given this to me, and I think it’s a great honour.” Pavetta is earnest as she speaks. “I always want to be worthier of it. So I’m always trying harder at anything I do, because I want to feel like I’m ready for it.” She sours at the topic of Calanthe’s death, though. “I know that she will die, one day, but I want to keep her with me every day, because I don’t feel ready for anything without her. She is my hero.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>One thing shines through all of Pavetta’s words: the relationship between Calanthe and her daughter is one of the key tenets of the 21-year-old’s life. Was she ever at odds with her mother?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Pavetta laughs gainfully. “As with anything, it wasn’t always perfect—especially during my teenage years,” she alludes with a flick of her hand. “But it has survived through some difficult times, and that’s because of the love we have between us, that love between mother and daughter. I know she wants the best for me, even if I don’t.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And though I might hate her on occasion, I see it as par for the course: we will have our difficulties but always reconcile.” Pavetta adds.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What about Pavetta’s own life, away from the celebrity status conferred on her by her family? She blushes as she starts to say “I’m seeing someone—,” cutting it off and smiling awkwardly. I push further, encouraged by her openness. “Come on, you can tell us!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>By now Pavetta’s cheeks are red. “I haven’t told Calanthe yet, but I’m sure that she’ll approve when it comes down to it. He matters so much to me, and it came upon me so unexpectedly, I didn’t have the opportunity.”</em>
</p><p><em>A whirlwind romance, then? “Yeah,” Pavetta assuages. “We both love each other so much, and I am so looking forwards to our upcoming—our upcoming </em>something<em>, let’s say that.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Pavetta Riannon is sure to keep us intrigued and forever interested, what with news like that! Watch this space...</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Calanthe slams back her drink with abandon. She calls for another one vaguely, hand moving in the rough direction of the bar.</p><p>To say her week was rough would be an understatement. To say her week was the roughest? An overstatement. Calanthe’s weeks all seemed to be troublesome now, every day holding a new problem for her. Mousesack giving away company secrets—that had been the highlight of this week. To think he’d been fucking Geralt, that pain in the ass, on the side when all the while he’d been working for her with a straight face. She dreaded to imagine what the next week might hold.</p><p>Calanthe rests her head against the back of her armchair. She rather likes this armchair, this spot in the bar. She can lean back into the velvet cushions and stare with lidded eyes at the various patrons. She thinks she might reserve it. Or something like that. Put a plaque on it to mark it as Calanthe Fiona Riannon’s. She’s fucking famous, she can fucking well do that if she wants to. </p><p>“You should stop drinking.” The voice is harsh, and Calanthe immediately doesn’t like it. She opens her eyes to see a pretty brunette sitting across her way. Pretty, but entirely too sharp for her liking. In fact, Calanthe thinks she recognises this woman. And no, no, no, this is not a welcome development at all. </p><p>“Shut up, I do what I like,” Calanthe waves her hand to call the bartender to her attention. “Two drinks. Me and the madam.”</p><p>If she’s going to have to interact with Tissaia de Vries, she might as well get a drink before she dies so. Tissaia doesn’t complain. That seems good to her. </p><p>They sit in silence as their drinks are made, the bartender placing them on the table before fleeing back to the safety of their position behind the bar. Calanthe doesn’t blame them. </p><p>She takes her drink, as does De Vries, and drinks a fair portion of it in one sip, the alcohol burning down her throat with a familiar strength. It warms her, gives her confidence in the face of those ever-changing eyes. </p><p>“Calanthe,” De Vries sits like she has a stick all the way up her arse, prim and perfect with legs crossed and hair done up neatly. “I did not expect you to be such a heavy drinker.”</p><p>“Me? Heavy drinker?” Calanthe raises her eyebrows. “No, not at all. I drink to <em>cope</em>, not for fun, you see. That’s different.” She’s aware that she sounds utterly inebriated, but can’t bring herself to care. “Why do you drink?” Her words are slightly slurred.</p><p>De Vries takes a small sip before answering, “Oh, I don’t drink.”</p><p>Calanthe snorts. “Everyone drinks, medicates however way they can. What’s yours?” </p><p>The stare opposite is utterly unamused. Calanthe finds this disappointing. She’d thought that she was speaking some sort of higher truth, the kind that only comes during drunkenness, but De Vries doesn’t have seemed to realise that. </p><p>“I have no vices.” Still so bloody above everyone, still so bloody infuriating. Calanthe wonders what it would take to make Tissaia’s coldness defrost.</p><p>“Whatever. I’ll tell you mine, then, why the fuck not.” Vaguely, Calanthe is aware that this is an absolutely fucking stupid thing to do, but she is determined to break De Vries’s impassive mask. She holds up one hand, starts counting them off. “Alcohol. Gambling.” Every move she makes is a gamble, and Calanthe is addicted to the feeling of it. “Money, too much to count. Nothing quite like seeing it all rack up.”</p><p>By now, disgust has started to appear on De Vries’s face. If she’s disgusted by Calanthe, so much the better: Calanthe is disgusted by her impassiveness, by everything about her. Disgusted, she realises, because she wants De Vries, and can never have her. Because De Vries hates every part of her soul, and Calanthe simultaneously hates and wants her in turn.</p><p>She bends her next finger back, ignoring the moment of pain. “Pretty women,” Calanthe says, smiling grimly. “Pretty women like you, sweetheart.” The pet name slips off her tongue without much thought, but it is that which seems to take Tissaia aback.</p><p>The other woman takes a sip of alcohol, swallows, her throat bobbing, before starting to open her mouth. “I—that’s objectifying and—,”</p><p>“True,” Calanthe observes, flicking a finger against her glass and listening to it ring. “But did I ever come across as a good person?”</p><p>“No,” De Vries answers firmly. </p><p>She takes another sip, looking straight into Tissaia’s eyes as she drains it. Setting it down with a clink, she leans back feigning confidence and asks, “So, you gonna kiss me or what?”</p><p>It’s not her best come-on, but it succeeds in getting Tissaia flustered, her cheeks red rather than their usual pale colour. “I—,”</p><p>Without much preamble, Calanthe leans across, puts a finger over Tissaia’s (very pretty) lips. “I terrify you, don’t I?” Shifts her other hand to Tissaia’s cheek, just holding it. “I terrify you, but you want me, too, don’t you? Don’t deny it,” she adds.</p><p>Tissaia lets out a shuddering breath. “I don’t—I don’t want you,” she replies, but it feels less strong by the moment.</p><p>Calanthe chuckles darkly. “Tissaia de Vries, a terrible liar. Who would have thought.” She removes her thumb from over Tissaia’s lips, skates it over her harsh cheekbone. “Take the step.”</p><p>Her voice is too soft, too kind, rather than roughened and angry. This is not who Calanthe is, she knows: it’s who Tissaia wants her to be. </p><p>But when Tissaia’s eyes shutter closed and she seals her lips over Calanthe’s, she finds that she doesn’t mind being who Tissaia wants her to be. At least for tonight.</p>
<hr/><p><strong>Continental News: The ONLY news source you need! </strong>@ContinentalNews</p><p>Cintra Corp. shocked as senior advisor Mousesack departs from the board! Read more below and in our biweekly news bringing you all the latest updates: www.continentalnews.com/article/cintra-corp-shocked-senior-adviser-departs</p><p><strong>ellie / / stan jaskier the bard!! </strong>@ellieno1jaskstan</p><p><em>Replying to </em>@ContinentalNews</p><p>lmaooooo what happened now??</p><p><strong>Sabrina Glevissig: She/Her</strong> @sglevissig</p><p><em>Replying to </em>@ContinentalNews</p><p>This really shouldn’t surprise anyone. Cintra Corporation and Calanthe are headed for disaster, I can tell you that for nothing.</p><p><strong>Eist Tuirseach | My Life and Loves Out Now </strong>@eisttuirseach</p><p><em>Replying to </em>@ContinentalNews</p><p>I am sure that he deserved it. My congratulations to Calanthe on her work.</p>
<hr/><p>In between gasps, Tissaia manages to punch out: “We shouldn’t be doing this.”</p><p>Calanthe raises her head from Tissaia’s neck, by now darkened by marks. “Does it look like I care?” One eyebrow is hooked upwards, challenging.</p><p>Tissaia closes her eyes, but when she opens them, Calanthe is still there, reminding her. “No, but—,” it’s broken off as Calanthe reaches behind her to unzip her dress and pull it down Tissaia’s body, slowly but with a burning gaze.</p><p>“This is about forgetting, De Vries. This is about fucking away all my problems. Not about fucking morality or whatever.”</p><p>Tissaia grips Calanthe’s shoulders firmly, long nails digging in hard enough to scratch. “Fucking look at me when you fuck me.”</p><p>Calanthe’s laugh is deep and dark, less of a hero than a villain as she lets Tissaia pull her down onto the silken sheets. Her lips find Tissaia’s again and she kisses hard enough to bruise, her weight uncomfortable and yet so wonderful atop Tissaia’s body.</p><p>She fits her thigh in between Calanthe’s legs and reaches to undo the belt on Calanthe’s trousers, the task difficult with them pressed together. Despite that, Tissaia manages to pull it off and throw it halfway across the hotel room, the buckle landing with a heavy, guilty <em>thunk</em>.</p><p>“I hate you,” Calanthe breathes as she rips off one of the buttons on her shirt in her haste to get it off. It will be messed up come morning, but morning doesn’t matter when what she wants is in front of her and she has the opportunity to <em>have </em>it.</p><p>“So fucking much,” Tissaia replies as she fists the fabric of Calanthe’s shirt and tugs at it, urging Calanthe to let her pull it away. The other woman scowls as she takes it off, letting it fall to the floor and pile up with Tissaia’s shed dress. She pushes her trousers down, steps out of them and bears Tissaia and herself further down onto the bed. Her hips are pinned against the bedframe uncomfortably, and Tissaia shifts backwards on the bed.</p><p>“Gods, you’re so—so fucking beautiful,” Calanthe gasps as she sees Tissaia’s bared form. She crawls onto the bed, pupils wide, and kisses Tissaia again, softer than before. Her hands move from her sides to touch Tissaia, one sliding between her thighs. “Fuck,” Calanthe whispers, and it feels too intimate for the hate rippling between them.</p><p>Tissaia laughs, breathlessly. She feels like she’s breathed in smoke, like she’s drunk poison and survived. </p><p>“Like that,” she says, and Calanthe continues to oblige, Tissaia’s fingers coming up to twist in her hair and pull. It’s warm and luscious and so, so incredibly wrong.</p><p>At this moment, however, Tissaia can’t think of any reason to object.</p>
<hr/><p><strong>Pavetta Riannon ❤️ exclusive issue of melitele!!! </strong>@pavriannon</p><p>Throughout thick and thin, my mother @CalantheFiona has stuck with me. Thanks for never giving up on me ❤️.</p><p>Reply with your #MarvellousMothers for a S/O on my IG story!!!</p><p><strong>Yennefer || married to Triss </strong>@yenveng</p><p><em>Replying to </em>@pavriannon</p><p>tissaia de vries is my mother figure and 1000x better than that pos calanthe... darlings know that family is not blood &amp; you don’t have to stick with it. i guess this goes out to @pavriannon as well. if they’re being shitty &amp;/or abusive you can call some numbers in the thread below:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><strong>Triss Merigold (she/her) || yennefer’s wife </strong>@merigolds</p>
  <p>since my lovely wife @yenveng doesn’t often speak about it, i thought i'd spread awareness of familial abuse and offer some ways to help!! if you’re in danger in your current situation or simply need to speak to someone about it we’re all here for you. i love you all and want you to know that this too will pass.</p>
  <p>numbers listed below!!</p>
</blockquote><p><strong>stan yennefer for clear skin</strong> @yenpleasenoticeme</p><p><em>Replying to </em>@yenveng <em>and </em>@pavriannon</p><p>omg tysm for sharing!!! such a queen move, we stan 💜💜💜</p>
<hr/><p>Calanthe wakes up groggy, head still swirling from the alcohol she had imbibed last night and eyes bleary. She rubs languidly at her eyes, before she turns over and notices, sleeping opposite her—</p><p>Tissaia de Vries. Tissaia de fucking Vries. </p><p>She grinds her palm against her forehead, cursing her own thoughtlessness, cursing the headache that pounds inside her skull, and most of all cursing de Vries. </p><p>“Urgh,” she groans, rolling away from Tissaia’s face opposite hers and turning onto her side. Her arm feels numb where she presses it into the mattress, but she ignores it as her mind races.</p><p>Nobody can know about it, of course. And it has to be a one-time thing. Calanthe should very much <em>stop fucking thinking </em>about last night, but images keep turning up in her mind. Tissaia stretched out beneath her, pale like she had been blessed by the moon, but warm when Calanthe touched her. The feeling of the other woman’s lips against hers—</p><p>Calanthe swears loudly, pushes away the covers and gets up, feeling her lips sting when she rubs a finger over them. A bit of blood comes away, too, and Calanthe looks back at de Vries. A speck of blood is on her lips—<em>Calanthe’s </em><em>blood</em>, she realises—and it makes her feel lightheaded.</p><p>She staggers to the bathroom and flicks on the lights, peering at herself in the mirror. The sudden shock of bright light causes her to blink several times before her eyes adjust to it. Once they do, she stares at herself, hand going to her neck, marked up on one side by what looks to be lipstick.</p><p>Rubbing at it, Calanthe finds that it flakes away from her neck and onto her fingers. She turns on the tap with urgency and runs her hands under it, scrubbing the colour away until her hands are clean again. </p><p>Letting out a loaded breath, Calanthe returns to the bedroom, and gathers up her clothes, putting them on quickly and efficiently. She is fully dressed by the time that she looks back to the sleeping woman laid out on the bed.</p><p>In the morning light and covered in the white silk covers, she looks like Sleeping Beauty, ready for a prince to kiss her on the lips and wake her from her eternal slumber. Calanthe, however, is neither honourable nor a prince, so she does not.</p><p>Before leaving the room, Calanthe scribbles something on a piece of hotel stationery, her words short and to the point. </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Nobody can know about this.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>of course i had to include a bit of trissefer because i love them!!</p><p>please let me know what you think my motivation is dying faster than cintra</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>y’all, i don’t wanna moderate comments for this, but if the need arises i will.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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